Elena's Visit

Elena's Visit
Isabella's POV

I slammed on the brakes when I saw Vincent's car in my rearview mirror.

"No, no, no!" My hands shook on the steering wheel.

Nico was trapped back at the warehouse with the FBI and his mother. I was alone, being chased by the man who'd tried to blow me up just days ago.

Vincent's car pulled up beside mine at the red light. He rolled down his window and looked at me with those familiar eyes that had once made me feel safe.

"Isabella, please. Just hear me out."

"You tried to kill me!"

"I tried to save you! The explosion was meant to kill the Romano brothers, not you. I knew Nico would protect you. I counted on it."

The light turned green. I hit the gas and swerved away from him, but he followed easily.

My phone rang. Vincent's number.

Against my better judgment, I answered. "Stop following me!"

"I can't. Not until you understand." His voice was desperate. "Everything I did was to protect you. The frame job, the evidence, all of it. I made you look guilty so the real criminals would waste time hunting you instead of killing you."

"That doesn't make any sense!"

"Meet me somewhere safe. Let me explain. Then you can decide if you still hate me."

"I do hate you!"

"I know. But meet me anyway. For the girl you used to be. The one who still believed her father loved her."

Those words stabbed right through my anger into something deeper. Pain. Grief. The desperate need to understand why my whole life had been a lie.

"Where?" I asked.

"The hospital where your mother died. The real Marie Cross. I'll be in the chapel. Alone. Unarmed. You can bring whoever you want."

He hung up before I could respond.

I drove aimlessly for twenty minutes, trying to decide what to do. Go back for the Romano brothers? They'd never let me meet Vincent. Call the FBI? They'd arrest both of us.

Finally, I called the one person I trusted most in this world.

"Elena? It's me."

"Izzy! Oh my God, are you okay? I've been seeing your face on the news. They're saying terrible things—"

"It's all lies. I need help. Can you meet me?"

"Where?"

"The hospital. Where my mom died."

Elena didn't hesitate. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

She beat me there. When I walked into the hospital parking lot, she ran toward me and wrapped me in the tightest hug I'd ever felt.

"I thought I'd lost you," she sobbed into my shoulder.

"You almost did." I hugged her back just as hard. "Multiple times."

We sat in her car for a few minutes, just holding each other and crying. All the fear and stress and trauma of the past two weeks came pouring out.

"Tell me everything," Elena said finally. "The real story. Not the news version."

So I did. I told her about being the sixth child who was supposed to die. About the clone who'd been created to replace me. About Vincent framing me and the Romano brothers protecting me and Nico getting arrested trying to help me.

Elena listened without interrupting. When I finished, she was pale.

"That's the most insane thing I've ever heard."

"I know."

"And you're meeting Vincent now? Here?"

"He says he can explain. That everything was to protect me."

"Do you believe him?"

I thought about that. "I don't know what to believe anymore. But I need to hear what he has to say. I need to look him in the eye and ask him why."

"Then I'm coming with you."

"Elena—"

"No arguments. You're my best friend. You don't face monsters alone."

We walked into the hospital together. The chapel was in the basement, a small quiet room where families came to pray when their loved ones were dying.

I'd been here before, years ago, sitting next to my dying mother's bed. Back when I thought Vincent Cross was my real father and we were a normal family.

Vincent sat in the front pew, his head bowed. When he heard us enter, he looked up.

He'd aged ten years in the past two weeks. His hair was grayer, his face more lined, his eyes haunted.

"Isabella," he breathed. "You came."

"Don't call me that. You lost the right to use my name when you tried to blow me up."

Vincent flinched. "I understand why you hate me."

"Do you? Do you really understand what it feels like to learn your entire life is a lie? That the man who raised you was planning to sacrifice you from the beginning?"

"Yes." Vincent stood up slowly. "Because that's exactly what my father did to me."

I stopped walking. "What?"

"I wasn't supposed to be the accountant, Isabella. I was supposed to be one of the six sacrificed children." He pulled out a photo and handed it to me. "This is me at three months old. In a basket. In that warehouse. Ready to die."

I looked at the photo. It showed a baby that could have been any baby. But written on the back in faded ink was a date—twenty-five years ago—and a name: Vincent Chen.

"Chen?" I looked up at him. "Like Sophia Chen?"

"She's my niece. My brother's daughter. The brother who was supposed to die instead of me." Vincent's voice cracked. "My father made a deal. He switched the babies. Killed his own firstborn son to save his second son. To save me."

Elena grabbed my hand and squeezed.

"I've lived with that guilt my entire life," Vincent continued. "Knowing my brother died so I could live. When the families asked me to help with another ritual twenty-five years later, I thought it was my chance to redeem myself. To save a child the way I couldn't save my brother."

"So you saved me."

"And I doomed another child in the process. The clone. Isabelle. She was created because you survived. She suffered because I was selfish enough to want to save you."

Tears streamed down my face. "Why didn't you tell me any of this?"

"Because knowing the truth would have put you in danger. As long as you were innocent, as long as you truly didn't know about any of this, you had a chance at a normal life."

"I never had a chance at normal!" I shouted. "Not from the moment you took me!"

"I know. And I'm sorry. But I couldn't let you die, Isabella. Even knowing what it would cost. Even knowing I'd have to betray you someday to keep you safe."

Elena spoke for the first time. "How does framing her keep her safe?"

Vincent looked at her. "Because if everyone thinks she's the mastermind, they'll want her alive. They'll want answers, confessions, the location of hidden money and evidence. Dead, she's useless. Alive, she's valuable."

"That's twisted," Elena said.

"That's survival." Vincent turned back to me. "I know you'll never forgive me. But I need you to understand one thing. Everything I did—every lie, every betrayal, every terrible choice—I did because I love you. Not as a pawn. Not as a replacement for my brother. But as my daughter. The child I raised. The girl who gave my life meaning."

I wanted to stay angry. I wanted to hate him forever.

But looking at his broken face, I saw something I'd never seen before. I saw a man who'd been drowning in guilt for fifty years. A man who'd made terrible choices trying to save one innocent life.

My life.

"I can't forgive you," I said finally. "Not yet. Maybe not ever."

"I understand."

"But I don't hate you anymore." I wiped my tears. "I just feel sad. For both of us. For all the children who died. For all the lies that were told."

Vincent nodded, fresh tears on his own face. "What will you do now?"

"I'm going to clear my name. Prove my innocence. And then I'm going to make sure no one ever hurts children like this again."

"The Romano brothers will help you."

"The Romano brothers are in jail. Or dead. I don't even know anymore."

"Then let me help." Vincent reached into his jacket.

Elena and I both jumped back, thinking he was reaching for a gun.

But he pulled out another USB drive.

"This is the real evidence. Everything I documented over twenty-five years. The difference is, this version has the truth. It shows you're innocent. It shows I'm the one who compiled everything. It clears your name."

I stared at the USB drive like it was a snake. "Why should I trust you?"

"Because it's all I have left to give you. My last gift. My final apology."

I reached out slowly and took the drive.

The chapel door burst open.

Agent Chen walked in with ten armed FBI agents behind her.

"Nobody move!" she shouted, guns raised.

Vincent stepped in front of me. "She's innocent. I have proof. Let me—"

"We're not here for her," Agent Chen interrupted. "We're here for you, Vincent Cross. You're under arrest for conspiracy, fraud, and twenty-five counts of accessory to murder."

"What twenty-five counts?" I demanded. "Only five children died!"

Agent Chen looked at me with something like pity in her eyes.

"That's what everyone thought. But we just found the real burial site. The actual graves." She paused. "There weren't five children killed twenty-five years ago, Isabella. There were twenty-five. Five from each family. Your father helped bury all of them."

The world tilted sideways.

Vincent looked at me with devastation in his eyes. "I tried to tell you. I tried to warn you. That's the real secret. That's why everyone wants you dead."

"I don't understand," I whispered.

"Because you're not just one of the six children who was supposed to die," Vincent said as the FBI agents handcuffed him. "You're one of the twenty-five. And there are still twenty-four bodies buried in that warehouse. Bodies of children whose families have been searching for them for decades."

"But you said only five families were involved—"

"I lied. There were five families at the ritual. But they each brought five children. And every single one of them died." He looked at me as they dragged him toward the door. "Except you. You're the only survivor of the largest mass murder of children in New York history. And when the families realize you're the one who knows where the bodies are buried, they'll stop at nothing to silence you."

"But I don't know where they're buried!"

Vincent's last words before they took him away made my blood freeze:

"Yes, you do. I hid the location in the only place I knew you'd never forget. In your mother's lullaby. The one you've been humming your entire life. Every word is a clue. Every note is a direction. You've always known where the bodies are, Isabella. You just didn't know you knew."

The agents pushed him out of the chapel.

Elena and I stood frozen, staring at each other.

"What lullaby?" she asked.

And that's when I realized Vincent was right. There was a lullaby. One my mother sang to me every night before she died. One I'd been humming unconsciously for weeks without even realizing it.

Luna bella, stelle d'oro...

I'd thought it was just a sweet Italian song about the moon and stars.

But now, thinking about the words, I realized they weren't about beauty at all.

They were directions.

"Under the moon's light, where gold stars fall, five steps north of the old brick wall..."

I grabbed Elena's arm. "We have to go. Right now."

"Where?"

"To find twenty-four dead children before their killers find me.”